I Don't Swing
by TalysAlankil
Summary: In the end, the Foxes settled their betting pool and declared Neil gay. Neil couldn't bring himself to agree.


"I don't swing either way," Neil had once told the Foxes—what felt like an eternity ago, something that had happened in a different life and to a different person.

Ever since he'd kissed Andrew on their way out of Castle Evermore, the Foxes had officially closed their betting pool and decided Neil was gay. Neil hadn't missed Andrew's snort when Nicky first mentioned it—of course Andrew, with his flawless memory, would remember what Neil had told him. How he still didn't look at any of his male teammates any differently. But Neil hadn't bothered argue with Nicky; it wasn't his business now any more than the first time Neil had deflected his question, and Neil had no more of a satisfying answer to offer him.

So when Andrew brought it back up the next evening, when they were sitting on the roof of Fox Tower once again, it caught him off-guard. "From a close call to an existential crisis. Can't you be simple for a short time?"

"You might lose interest. I can't afford that." Andrew scoffed in response, but it was enough to make Neil smile. "What exactly do I have an existential crisis about?"

"Nicky called you gay, and you looked like the idea was making you sick."

Had he? "And you feel insulted? I didn't think something like that could upset you." Andrew remained impassive in the face of Neil's banter, so he sighed. "It's not like I'd mind being gay, you know that, right? It just doesn't feel right for _me_." Andrew remained silent, in the focused way Neil had come to understand meant he was waiting for Neil to continue. "For years my mother told me girls were a distraction, that I should never lower my guard to that point, or I'd fuck something up and my father would find us. After a while I just though I'd internalized her advice so much I just…couldn't feel anything like that. Until you. Now I don't know what to think."

Andrew took a drag from his cigarette, letting silence hang between them—a different kind of silence, one where he was about to speak. "So you figure out what does fit for you."

"It's not that easy."

"It's as easy as you let it be."

* * *

The next day, they were alone in their room at the Fox Tower when Andrew tossed a book Neil's way—literally, from across the room. Neil barely caught it, and then stared at it for a moment, confused.

"I didn't know you were taking a queer studies class," he finally let out. Because that was what it was: one of Andrew's textbooks. Then, guiltily, he added, "You memorized my entire schedule, and I didn't even know the classes you were taking."

He settled wordlessly on the beanbag next to Neil. Then, he said, "How about we focus on one source of angst at a time?"

Neil looked up at him in surprise—it wasn't often that Andrew referred to them as 'we', even to state simple facts. But then again, he hadn't argued at Evermore either when Neil had suggested that they were something. Hopefully this was the start of a trend.

But that was something he would have to puzzle out later. He glanced at the book again. "I'm not sure I follow."

"I told you to find out what fit you; you weren't convinced. This is a place to start looking."

Neil glanced at the book again, then back at Andrew. "Did you—"

"I knew what I was about before I got here." There was a hint there—to the struggles Andrew had had to go through, which Neil had already guessed about. But the hardness of Andrew's tone were enough for Neil not to pry. Not now.

* * *

It wasn't as easy as Andrew had made it sound—but then again, it was also simpler than Neil had feared it might be. Labels were too simplistic for something this complex, he thought; and yet, he found so many with Andrew's help—and the Internet's when the textbook wasn't enough—that he wondered if it was possible. A few had struck close, had given him a feeling that maybe he wasn't just broken. But he hadn't found the right one yet.

Hours stretched, until Kevin and Nicky returned; they stopped immediately then, and Andrew's textbook disappeared surprisingly fast. When Andrew broke away from Neil's kiss later than night and took out his laptop again, Neil couldn't manage to feel upset about it—mostly, he felt touched by Andrew's efforts.

Neil was the one who stumbled upon it, in the end. _Demisexual_. Someone who felt sexual attraction only to people they were emotionally or romantically connected to. He almost hesitated to point it out to Andrew—the implication would be obvious, and he wasn't sure how Andrew would react.

"You're staring," Andrew said, breaking Neil out of his thoughts.

The words came to him easily. "A truth for a truth?"

Andrew raised an eyebrow, but he nodded. "What are you?"

Neil couldn't help but smirk at how easily Andrew had figured him out. "Demisexual." He paused, but Andrew didn't ask—uncaring, or knowing already what it meant? Had Andrew let Neil figure it out on his own rather than give him his answer? It sounded like something he would do. But that wasn't the question he wanted to ask. "Are we a couple?"

Andrew scoffed. "This game only works if you ask questions you don't know the answer to."

"Fine. Do you mind that I love you?"

"As long as you don't mind that I hate you."

A nervous chuckle rose from Neil's chest, borne by relief—this was as close to acceptance as Andrew could give him right now. "Definitely not," he said, and he pulled Andrew in for a kiss.


End file.
